


Stammi Vicina

by Carnivalgirl24



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cisswap, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, F!Victuuri, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Injury Recovery, Lesbian Victuuri, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Pregnancy, Unbeta'd, cisflip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnivalgirl24/pseuds/Carnivalgirl24
Summary: Genderswap AU, post-canon. Yuri Katsuki is twenty-seven and competing in her last Grand Prix Final, but her coach and wife, Viktoria Nikiforova, is not with her in person. Rumours abound about where she is, but what is the truth?





	

Five years ago, Yuri Katsuki had been newly twenty-two years old and sixth in her first Grand Prix Final, and she’d believed without even a little reservation of doubt that she would never be able to handle so much pressure again. 

Now, newly twenty-seven, she had more pressure on her than she’d ever imagined she’d take on in her life…and also, still, miraculously, a skating career. For one more day. She was minutes away from her last free skate in her last Grand Prix Final.  

She’d always had a detailed mental image of her last day. For all these years, practically since she first qualified for Japanese Nationals, the fear that she would crash, probably literally, out of professional skating had been at her shoulder in every practice and every competition. Even after her first Grand Prix Final medal, when she’d proven herself to be one of the best skaters in the world and got engaged to the woman of her dreams, even then it came out of the dark, as close as the voice of her mother. Useless. Embarrassing. Not deserving. 

It also didn't help that it was occasionally backed up by voices in the external world. 

‘Skater Yuri Katsuki has been alone since she arrived in Nagoya. Her coach, Viktoria Nikiforova, is communicating with her via Skype.’ 

‘Trouble in paradise for those two?’ 

Yuri jammed her headphones in harder, wishing Viktoria hadn't persuaded her to give up the earplugs. She had been officially retired for more than two years now, but you wouldn't have guessed that from the attention she still attracted. _It’s like there’s a Viktoria-shaped hole in the time-space continuum._  

‘Could be. They had a similar set up in 2016 when Nikiforova was being treated for her back injury. That year was of course Katsuki’s first Grand Prix Final win, and I would say one of her best years. But things may be different now.’ 

She felt a hand hovering by her shoulder. _What do you want?_ she thought irritably, before turning to see that it was Phichit. She smiled up at her friend, and made a gesture of removing her headphones.  

‘Ignore them, Yuri, they don't actually know anything.‘ 

Phichit had got her nickname in their college days from her habit of introducing her hometown before introducing herself. She remained the world’s foremost expert on Yuri Katsuki, and the media’s best and worst source for anything about her. 

‘Yulya and I have convinced Twitter she’s had surgery again. If you look at her recent pics, they’re all from the shoulders up, it’s very telling. Even got a few people saying they can see a brace.’ 

‘Thank you. I don't know how you do it.’ 

Phichit shrugged. ‘Happy to be of service. Though you are going to have to tell them sometime.’ 

Yuri sighed at the thought. ‘Is it really abnormal to keep it between close family and friends?’ 

‘At this point? Yeah. But…it's understandable.’  

She gave a brief, gentle smile, and Yuri understood all that it meant. 

In May 2016, over two years ago, Christine Giacometti had invited a handful of fellow skaters to hang out and train at her home rink in Geneva. They set up a nice routine of training during the day and going out for lunch and at night. One afternoon, she had been at the gym with Phichit while Viktoria practiced at the rink with Chris and Emilia. Unusually, Yuri hadn’t had much on her mind at the time, except maybe how much cheese fondue her body would tolerate later. It had taken her a few moments to notice Phichit waving her over from the bench press. 

Phichit had held out her hands slightly, and her eyes had looked so unsure and sad that she seemed like a different person. Yuri had felt an urge to get away before she even said a word. 

‘Chris just called. Viktoria had a fall about an hour ago and landed right on her lower back. It seemed OK at first, but it’s gotten a lot worse. They’re going to the hospital. It sounds like…it’s bad, Yuri.’ 

Yuri couldn't remember much from that day, and liked to remember even less, but she did remember Phichit encouraging her to breathe, Phichit stroking her hand, Phichit showing her cute puppy videos in the waiting room in an effort to bring her back to the moment.  

Yuri and Viktoria’s dream of competing on the same ice came to a sudden and permanent end that day. With two years of hindsight, they knew that was far from the worst consequence that injury could have had, but everything had changed after that. They built fewer dreams, and protected the ones they still had. 

 A few minutes now until she was up. She heard a Skype tone from her phone, and picked it up. 

‘Yuri.’ Viktoria’s voice was serious, and she held the camera close to her face. The look in her blue eyes was so intense Yuri couldn't even blink. ‘Do not lose focus out there. If it distracts you to think about us...' 

'No.' Yuri pressed her fingers to the screen, trying to imagine Viktoria's strong, elegant hand in hers. 'The only way I can nail this is if I think about us. Watch me. Stay close to me.’ 

Viktoria nodded once, and pressed her fingers to Yuri's screen in return.  

When her name was announced, Yuri held her phone out with her left hand and made a dramatic gesture of pressing her lips to her engagement and wedding rings. A genuine, wild cheer went up from the crowd, and her heart swelled with affection for them. Kissing the rings before entering the rink was a tradition. It didn't feel like the last time at all.  

Her theme for this year's free skate was Fortitude, though she preferred the less artistic word, Courage. Her career had reached a length where she was asked more often about the past than the future, and younger skaters were not her peers but people looking for a role model. Through all the self-reflection that came with that, she had decided that courage, like love, was at the heart of everything she did and tried to do with her life.  

She held out her right arm in her beginning pose, and threw her head down in a dramatic glance at the ice. Her free skate costume this year was yellow with streaks of green and white. Against the ice, she thought, it looked like a Japanese - or Swiss - mountain flower. 

 _It doesn't matter that I can't hold Viktoria's hand today. It matters that I have held it, and I will again,_ she thought. 

She waited for that first piano note. 

 _I am an anxious person. I'm twenty-seven years old, I'm not going to change that much. Even if I don't always have anxiety, I will be anxious for the rest of my life._  

She began, as she always did, with a display of footwork. Her body did the technical work, coherent thought only coming in short bursts, 'Shoulders' 'Flourish’ ‘Gently'. 

 _But it's my shadow; the whole of me, but a shade of me. I am so much more, and I will be even more._  

The drums came in. They reminded her not only of her heart, but the way her whole body throbbed after an intense practice. She went into her first spiral, which finished with a Kerrigan spiral. This always excited the commentators, but she heard nothing but the music and her own thoughts. 

 _I have more nightmares than dreams. I thought Viktoria would go back to Russia. I thought she'd leave me when I failed. I thought she'd refuse my proposal. I was wrong. My love was stronger than my fear._  

She curled her hands into fists and crossed her arms in front of her body. It was one of the first ballet mimes Minako ever taught her; it meant death. 

 _But then in 2016 a nightmare came true. Viktoria was injured because_ I _told her to go back to competing. I thought I'd lose her. I almost lost myself._  

Second spiral. Her mind went quiet while she balanced. The routine forced every cell of her body into submission, just as she'd planned it to. 

 _But_ _we're still here._  

The music fell silent, her cue for her second half. It almost caught her by surprise. She went into her first combination; triple Salchow, single loop, double axel. Her muscles remembered performing that first perfect triple Salchow for Viktoria every time.  

 _My life is better than I could ever have dreamed. And it's not just luck that made it happen, it's effort, it’s courage. Viktoria's courage and my courage._  

She let the music guide her flow towards the end, finally launching into a triple flip. This time she heard the crowd cheering. 

 _And this is still just the beginning._  

She raised her eyes to the lights. The music finished. She gave her body to the pose and her mind to the music like it was her very first performance. 

 _Thank you, thank you, thank you._  

* 

Her score was over two hundred. She'd made the podium. Viktoria struggled to contain herself in the Kiss and Cry.  

'That triple flip was heavenly! I feel so much fortitude right now! The whole world is stronger because of you!’ 

'Please sit down, Vita. You’re scaring me.' Yuri had expected to cry at this point, or at least feel some kind of strong emotion, but she just felt spaced out. Her flowers slipped out of her arm three times as she kept forgetting she was holding them. 

'Oh, Yuri,’ Viktoria’s voice was broken by tears. ‘Will you marry me?’ 

'We’re already married.’ Yuri said, vaguely.  

'Let's renew our vows!' 

'Uh...' She blinked at the camera, wishing she had her glasses. 'Sure.' 

*

She did almost cry on the podium, as the music played loud in her ears and the silver medal was placed with care and honour over her neck. She loved having a medal, even apart from everything it symbolised; its silver shine, the feel of its patterns under her fingers, the weight of it against her chest. Her half of the trophy cabinet at home would be nice and symmetrical; silver, gold, gold, silver. 

But she did not cry. It still didn't feel like the last time. Her body had a weird, weightless feeling, like she’d taken off a heavy backpack.  

 _Hugs. I need. Hugs._  

*

‘I’m not letting you go, Yuri! This is the end of an era!’ 

‘Congratulations on your medal. You're an inspiration.’ 

‘YURI-CHAAAAN!! PLEASE DON’T RETIRE! Japan needs you!’ 

‘JJ is -’ 

'You can let go of me now, piggy.’ 

The gold had gone to Yulya Plisetskaya, who was back on form after a two-year puberty related setback. This had mellowed her out enough to tolerate the occasional hug, but not for more than two seconds.  

'So...uh...Bekka was unlucky,' Yuri said, fidgeting with her medal. 

'Doesn't matter.' Yuly's eyes lit up at the reference to her girlfriend. 'She's going to kick your ass at Four Continents.' 

‘I'm not entering Four Continents, I'm retiring.' 

Yuly shrugged. ‘It's not too late to change your mind. The JSF loves you. They'd probably drop Fujiwara for you. You may be old, but you're better.' 

‘Yuly, I _can't_ go. Not even to watch. Four Continents is at the end of January.'  

Even though she had known this for months, Yuri's heart skipped a beat as she said it aloud, as if it was the first time she'd realised what it meant.  

‘I did know that,' Irritation flashed in Yuly’s face, though more at herself than Yuri. 'I just thought - I mean - nobody drops off the face of the world when they quit skating. They coach or they do ice shows or they get a job with the press. So…what are you going to do? 

It dawned on Yuri that Yuly was trying to ask, in a roundabout, Yuly-ish way, when they would see each other again. She wanted to hug her one more time, but thought better of it. 

‘Come to Hasetsu in April. You know how beautiful it is that time of year.’ 

‘Oh.’ Yuly drew back in surprise. ‘Uh, I don't want to disturb you guys.’ 

‘Hopefully we’ll be settled by then. At least, kind of. Though you wouldn't have to stay with us. My parents remember you, they would probably let you stay for free.’ 

‘No way. I’m nineteen now, I’ll pay for myself.’ 

Yuri decided to count that as an acceptance. 

*

For some cruel reason (probably the senior men getting the more favourable slot) the press had been allowed to schedule their panel even sooner after the competition than usual. Yuri was allergic to these even when Viktoria was with her. The flashing lights and loud voices competing for attention always made her head ache and her mind go dull. 

‘Yuri Katsuki, I know you’ve said this all season, but can you confirm again that  you will be retiring as of today?’ 

‘I…Yes, I’m retiring,’ she said into the microphone, then sat back in her chair as if it had been a physical effort. Phichit, who'd got the bronze, shot her a sympathetic look.  

‘Last one ev-er’, she mouthed. 

The words woke Yuri up like a Petersburg breeze. She almost started laughing right there and then. _No more panels! No more pictures, no more questions, no more analysis of my skating and my weight and my marriage!_  

It was like the chimes sounding for the end of school. She wanted to go running out of the door.  

‘Another question for Yuri Katsuki - where is your coach, Viktoria Nikiforova? Why hasn't she been with you in person this competition?’ 

Yuri slammed her glass of water, and took out her phone from her bag. 

‘You know what?’ she said. Her voice was weird and loud and not like her, like the time she’d said she’d prove her love to the world by winning the Grand Prix Final. ‘You want to know? Let’s ask her.’ 

Phichit pressed her hands to her mouth. Yuly pulled a face. 

Yuri dialled, and Viktoria answered instantly. She’d been watching the panel herself. 

‘Who are you and what have you done with my wife?’ she asked, in Japanese. 

Yuri felt a laugh bubble up from within her. She replied in the same language. ‘I thought it was time to tell them.’ 

‘Well, you’ve given me no choice.’ She glanced behind her as if she expected to see the press there.  

‘Surprise them. I know you can,’ Yuri said softly. Appealing to Viktoria’s theatrical side had never failed yet.  

Viktoria smiled. ‘Turn me around.’ 

There was a mechanical sound as all the lenses zoomed in. Yuri’s hands were shaking so much she thought she would drop her phone.  

‘Hello old friends! It’s been a while. First of all, I thank everyone for your continued support, now and for all the years that we’ve been doing this. Yuri set our hearts on fire today, we’re still trying to put them out, and she couldn't have done it without you. Thank you. We love you. But! You asked me a question and I will answer it.’ 

Phichit took out out her own phone and opened Twitter, while Yuly was collapsed face down on the table, already dead of embarrassment. 

‘The truth is, yes, I am at home, on the orders of my physiotherapist, and also my Yuri. Most of you will know that I injured my back a couple of years ago, and while it meant I had to immediately retire from competing, I am now a lot better. But unfortunately it does still hurt sometimes, especially when I have to walk around a lot, and when…I have a lot of pressure on it…’ 

The cameras suddenly went wild. Yuri tilted her head to look at her phone screen. Viktoria was holding out her tablet to provide a full view of her body, and even though Yuri’s tablet screen was small, a long enough lens could still pick up that she was obviously, substantially, and, in Yuri’s only slightly biased opinion, beautifully pregnant. 

‘Viktoria! When is it due?’ 

‘Viktoria! Will you tell us if it’s a boy or a girl?’ 

Phichit was attacking her phone like Beethoven at a piano. Yuly was glancing miserably at the door. 

‘February! No! That’s all from me now, back to skating.’ She winked, and signed off.  

Yuri gave them an awkward grin. Her face was flaming hot and she felt sweat gathering at her hairline. ‘Does that explain everything?’ 

*

The fans acted fast. When Yuri made it back to her hotel room some time later, she was astonished to see she already had more gifts than could fit on the bed, including several sets of baby clothes, tiny shoes the same colour as her skates, and a whole litter of plush dogs. Some of those were probably intended for her rather than her baby, but still. 

She couldn't resist calling Viktoria again to show her. She took a little while to answer. She had put a blanket over her shoulders and held a cup of green tea. Her silver hair was floppy and day-worn, a look she was always embarrassed to see in the mirror, but which Yuri found heart-achingly pretty.  

'Wow! What amazing things for our friend's baby.'

The day they agreed to try for a baby, Viktoria told Yuri in grave tones that in Russia, receiving gifts for a baby before it was born was traditionally considered a bad omen. However, Yuri's parents had offered their first gifts less than twenty-four hours after Yuri had told them they were going to be grandparents, and rejecting them would have been terrible for both the present and future. So Yuri and Viktoria agreed they would set aside a collection of items to give the next time one of their friends had a baby. And if a baby of their own happened to arrive, and it happened that all the things were also just right for their baby, well, that would be a fortunate coincidence.

Yuri made one of the poodle plushes bark at the screen. 'The label says 'For age one and up'. So I'll take care of him for now.'

'They still remember Makkachin,' Viktoria said, a little sadly. They had a moment of silence.

‘But please,’ she said. ‘Next time you ask me to talk to the press, at least give me a warning so I can put on some powder.’ 

Yuri had to laugh. ‘I forgot you’re the vainest person in the world. Is that really all you’re thinking about?’ 

‘People on Insta are telling me I look “so real”.’ 

‘That’s a compliment. It means they identify with you. I get it a lot.’  

‘For you, yes. For me, they mean I look tired.’ 

Yuri suddenly felt her mood drop. While she usually always worried about how Viktoria was - far more than about her own health - she hadn't actually asked once today. She hadn't even checked the baby app on her phone, and she usually did that at least thirty times a day. 

‘It should have been me,’ she blurted out. ‘I don't have any injuries.’ 

‘Are we going to have this conversation every day until February?’  Viktoria said, a little bluntly. ‘I knew you had one more year of competing in you. And I was right, wasn't I?’ 

Yuri held her medal up to the camera yet again and smiled despite herself. ‘Yes, yes, you were. And I’m proud the whole world saw Fortitude. But have you done any yoga today?’ 

‘No, but come on, I have been busy! Don't play coach with me.’ She pouted slightly. ‘I am fine, I just need a little sleep. It’s not my back, it's our baby. It was practising triple flips until two o’clock last night. We need your lullabies.’ 

Yuri sighed and looked down at her hotel bed. She thought of the evening in front of her, and the evening in front of Viktoria. _I am the most selfish wife in humanity._  

‘I’ll come home tonight. Maybe I could move my flight, I’ll check.’ Fukuoka Airport was not that far from Hasetsu. She could be home by bedtime.  

Viktoria’s smile vanished. ‘No.’ 

‘It’s OK. I’m done here, right? I’ll come home.’ 

‘Yuri…’ Viktoria tugged at the blanket around her shoulders. ‘Remember our first Grand Prix Final together, when you told me to return to the ice?’ 

Yuri leaned away defensively, wrapping her arms tighter around the plush dog. _Like I’ll ever forget that? Just because I don't cry when I think about it any more, doesn't mean I’m over it._  

‘What about it?’ 

Viktoria touched the screen again, tenting her fingers as if they were gripping Yuri’s hand. 

‘I didn't understand it at the time, but now I do. You wanted me to finish telling my story…even if it couldn't last much longer. And I want the same for you.’ Yuri must have looked freaked out, because she added, ‘It’s not that I don’t miss you. Of course I do. But you have an epilogue to perform.’ 

‘I…’ Yuri sighed. It was still so hard to put her thoughts into something that flowed the way Viktoria’s had _. ‘_ You’ll call me again tonight, won’t you?’ 

‘I will. Though I need to take a nap if I want to make it to tonight. I love you, Yuri.’ 

None of this was _right_. The sensation that something was missing formed a physical weight in Yuri’s stomach. ‘…I love you, too.’ 

Once Viktoria hung up, Yuri threw herself down on the lonely hotel bed, gathered two more plush dogs in her arms, and thought.  

Anxiety compelled her to bring up the pregnancy conversation over and over again, but the decision had been made long before they started trying.  

In the first few months after the injury, Yuri had quickly got into the habit of constantly watching Viktoria’s face for the slightest sign of physical or mental discomfort. The worry was both compulsive and frustrating, as Viktoria had worn her usual heart-shaped smile more often than ever. The things that had made her happy before - annoying her former coach, playing with Makkachin, eating Yuri’s katsudons - still brought her just as much if not more joy. She held onto a huge amount of motivation. But she still had a skater’s heart, and Yuri, knowing what skaters’ hearts were made of, kept watching. 

All Viktoria’s life her body had been her instrument. She had summoned movement from it like music, and even when it resisted, she had known just what to do to coax it around to her will. She had never fully realised, until the moment her spine collided violently with the ice, that she didn’t have a body, she was a body, and all this time, her body had really been the one in charge.  

The worst times were the mornings. Petersburg had a few unusually hot nights that summer, and Yuri would wake to find her fiancée staring with red, burning eyes at the clock, her arms and legs held rigid. 

‘Are you gonna come have some breakfast?’ 

‘No. My feet are numb. If I try to stand on them, I’ll fall over.’ 

A lot of things would go through Yuri’s head at those moments. Some days the grief of it would slam down so hard she couldn’t think straight, and she would have to go outside with Makkachin to avoid crying in front of Viktoria. Other days, even though she knew what it was like to hate life and her health within a second of waking up, she would still hear her brain suggesting, ‘I’d catch you if you fell over!’ ‘You can walk, you’re just freaking out’, ‘You’re supposed to be trying’.  

But then some mornings Makkachin would pad over and lick Viktoria’s feet, and Yuri would say, 

‘Just as well you’re marrying a girl who can do wonderful things with hot towels.’ 

When Viktoria had a review with her consultant, some months after her injury, she asked Yuri to stay at the rink rather than go with her. She didn't want Yuri to hear it, because they both knew how it would go: she would have to tell her consultant she hadn't recovered as they’d hoped she would, and he would agree, and they’d have to start talking about surgery. Yuri had come home that evening braced to deal with an emotional night, and was surprised to her fiancée calmly watching TV, and a new origami mobile  hanging from the ceiling. 

‘This came in the post! Axel, Lutz and Loop made it for me! Aren't they just so cute?’ 

‘Uh, yeah,’ Yuri had said, after a second’s hesitation. ‘I…I’m sorry, I told Yūki that you were probably going to have to have…’ 

‘Surgery, da. But look, they’re so talented!’ 

Yuri hadn't known exactly what it was at that point, but she knew Viktoria had had some kind of idea. She had the kind of spirit which was most alive, and most comfortable in the world, when it had something new to create.  

And now they were here. While Yuri could have handled the back strain of pregnancy better than Viktoria, she wasn't sure about everything else. It was just so big, so life-altering that the only way to take it all in, even from the outside, was one day at at a time. She regretted that Viktoria had had to stay home for the GPF, profoundly regretted it, but she’d also indulged in the chance to keep the news to themselves. The anticipation of a new life was balanced out by the steady presence of her old life, which, incredibly, was now what skating was.  

Or had been. None of her life as she knew it was left now. Tomorrow, she wouldn’t be top figure skater Yuri Katsuki any more, she’d be ‘former’. Tomorrow, she’d leave this hotel a new person. 

She thought about it, and thought about it, poking and prodding at the idea of ‘change’ and ‘responsibility’ in her head, waiting for the panic, or the joy, or _something_ to come up in her.  

 _I am leaving. I am leaving skating. I literally never have to skate again. I am leaving skating. I am…_  

 _What if the reason I’m thinking this is because I’m_ not _going to leave skating? What if I’ve chosen skating over my child?_  

 _No. I’m going home tomorrow. I want to go home tomorrow. I just can't see it in my head yet._  

She held one of the plush poodles against her chest, over her medal, and tried to imagine the tiny, warm, living body she’d hold in February. She cradled its behind in her left hand as she’d seen Yūki do with the triplets when they were babies, and listened to her heart beating slowly. 

‘You’re going to have to bear with me. I’m not as soft as Vik…as your Mama. Though I will be once I’ve stopped exercising for a while.’ 

She stroked the poodle’s soft furry head, and wondered if the hair she would stroke in February would be black or silver.  

‘Your Mama stopped being an athlete a while ago, but I’m only just stopping now. I’ve been an athlete for so long, it’s going to take me some time to figure out how to be anything else. Skating is…skating is like dance, it’s a…burst of something beautiful. It’s not just the routine itself, it’s…it’s the way it reminds you of something in yourself, or creates something new in you. Skating brought me love and life…and I’m keeping them with me when I leave. I’ve said everything I wanted to say with skating. I’ve got a new dance to perform now.’ 

She took off her glasses and undid her hair, and lay with the poodles still around her. The tension went out of her head, and she watched the light on the wall fade as the sun set. 

It wasn't until she heard Phichit’s enthusiastic knock at her door that she remembered she still had to go to the banquet. 

*

She and Phichit took five selfies together before they got to the banquet room; one “before” with the dogs, one with the make-up, one with the hair, one with the outfits and one where they very nearly tipped backwards down the hotel stairs. Yuri paused for a moment before going in, sinking into her heels and doing, then undoing, her jacket. She rehearsed in her head something nice and decorous to say to the sponsors, and prayed that none of them would mention the pole-dancing again. As she approached the door she heard, 

‘You’d better not try to kiss my medal, you hag.’ 

There was only one person Yuly Plisetkya honoured with that title. Yuri, forgetting she was wearing heels and a delicate hairstyle, grabbed the door and threw herself into the room as fast as she possibly could. 

Except, when her eyes locked on her, on Viktoria, all at once she could only float, the music inside her altering and harmonising with Viktoria’s. For one long heartbeat, even though she was walking she felt herself flying, dancing towards her wife, and just as if they were on ice, she opened her eyes wide to take in all the beauty of the vision in front of her. 

Among a crowd of dancers, she was dance itself; her grace, her power wasn’t just in the smooth curves of her neck or shoulders, or the classical delicacy of her arms and hands, or the perennial magnetism of her blue eyes, which, even without any expression, seemed still to draw all the world towards them. When her eyes met Yuri’s, she smiled that mysterious, romantic smile that Yuri remembered from their first kiss, and her heart fluttered just as it had then. 

Almost reverently, Viktoria took Yuri’s silver medal in her hands, while Yuri, with the same eagerness, reached out to rest her own hands over Viktoria’s bump.  

‘You really thought I’d miss your last competition?’ Viktoria asked her. 

 _It is my last competition. I'm leaving to have kids with Viktoria._ Yuri’s heart clenched with euphoria, and with one undignified gasp she finally started to cry. Without another word, Viktoria reached her arms around Yuri’s waist, and Yuri fell into them. For the first time, she had to crane her neck a little to reach her head far enough to press her eyes to Viktoria’s shoulder. It felt different, but still more like home than anywhere else.  

‘You’ve gotten bigger since I left,’ she said, through her tears. 

‘I have?’  

‘Mmm, definitely.’  

They stayed like that for another long heartbeat, the rest of the room completely forgotten. Then Yuri heard the music and the hum of conversations again, and they broke apart. 

‘Can I get you some champagne, silver medallist?’ Viktoria asked, gesturing to the rows of glasses.  

*

Two hours and a modest three glasses of champagne later, Yuri remembered why she'd chosen a dress with a mid-thigh slit, and took the opportunity to show it off a little in an exaggerated tango with Phichit. She shot an Eros glance over her shoulder at Viktoria, who whistled and took a picture from where she was sitting with the coaches. 

‘Make it stop,’ Yuly appealed loudly to Bekka. 

‘It won't be the same next year,’ Bekka responded. It wasn't clear if she thought that was a good or a bad thing.  

Yuri rushed back over to Viktoria and put her arms around her from behind. 

‘I’m sorry, I’ll stop.’ 

‘Stop what?’ 

‘The Eros.' She blushed (though part of it was the champagne) and pressed her face to Viktoria’s shoulder. ‘I mean, you must be so tired.’ 

‘Yuri…’ Viktoria asked, not looking at her. ‘Do you like this dress?’ 

It was forest green chiffon, the same colour as the green highlights on Yuri’s free skate costume. It had no frills, sparkles or slits, just an elegant sweetheart neckline and A-line silhouette. 

‘It’s beautiful. Though a little understated, for you.’ It was only fair, Yuri supposed, for her to at least try not to outshine everyone in the room. 

‘I had it fitted just after you left. I like it, even if it is a tent. But Yuri…do you know what else I bought?’ 

‘What else?’ 

Viktoria looked around briefly to see that the other guests’ attention was elsewhere, and nudged aside one of her dress straps. The strap underneath it was a familiar shade of violet, and it _did_ have sparkles. 

It took all Yuri’s effort not to make a sound. Viktoria reached for her medal again and caressed it gently with the tips of her fingers. 

‘I may be your wife, and I may be expecting our child, but I am still your coach, Yuri, and you’ve won us another medal. Once we get back to your room, I’m going to show you just how proud of you I am.’ 

She turned around and pressed a hot, lingering kiss to Yuri’s lips, and Yuri was very tempted to call it a night and head back to the hotel room there and then, but the music changed. She recognised it before the first note was finished, they had practiced it so many times. _Stammi_ _Vicina_. 

No matter how many years went by, no matter what they did next, no matter how ordinary life became, Yuri knew she would always be a little amazed by this. She would never forget what a thing it was to walk hand in hand with Viktoria Nikiforova to the Grand Prix Final banquet dance floor, and dance their own dance.  

_Duetto: Stammi Vicina, Non te Andare_

_Variation: Retirement_  

‘Yuri…’ Viktoria said quietly, as she twirled her. 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘Are you absolutely sure you don't want to go to Four Continents?’ 

Yuri ran her hand over Viktoria’s cheek. 

‘Don’t even joke about it. I’m not leaving you for another second.’ 

Viktoria laughed and gripped her hand tighter. ‘If you’d said yes, I’d have cried.’ 

 

 _Partiamo_ _insieme_  

 _Ora_ _sono_ _pronta_  

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have taken some liberties with the GPF location - this is the 2018 GPF, but I borrowed the 2017 GPF's location for plot reasons. The line about 'did not have a body, she was a body' was originally written by a friend of mine, the rest is mine


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